


Youngblood

by agenthandler



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Amnesiac Harry Hart, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Pre-Kingsman: The Golden Circle, slowburn between merwin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-16 03:04:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19309324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agenthandler/pseuds/agenthandler
Summary: [UNDER REVISION 01/17/2020]Harry dies at 55 and wakes up 17. The thought is as disorienting as he feels. Tequila finds a new reason for living in Harry and saves himself in the process. Merlin and Eggsy are still finding their footing around the new Harry as well as with each other. Charlie gets a third chance and Percival, now Arthur, will make sure he takes it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [Youngblood by 5 Seconds of Summer](https://open.spotify.com/track/5EqlEvrylr3DNy3R11Kmrz?si=9kkXBSx6RGCvWuYMmXpbLQ)  
> I also have a playlist for the fic on Spotify. Updates occasionally. [Youngblood Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/33NhSp3KIbsfoAjp7Wphms?si=FMSokpi2QwqNw4GYRJqZcg)
> 
> I have no beta. If you would like to contract your soul and (free) services, send me a DM:  
> Tumblr [@agenthandler](https://agenthandler.tumblr.com/)  
> Discord: NO6#1265

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tequila's House - 1st Floor - [A](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/511748917759836171/595140228897832960/Screen_Shot_2019-06-30_at_11.27.13_PM.png) / [B](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/511748917759836171/595140233415229442/Screen_Shot_2019-06-30_at_11.26.47_PM.png) / [C](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/511748917759836171/595140234325524493/Screen_Shot_2019-06-30_at_11.26.43_PM.png)

**? Date Unknown**

Harry doesn't realize he's dead until someone tells him so. That someone looked very much like a harbinger of death, if not, Death itself.

"So, it's my time?" He makes it sound more of a statement than a question. He was expecting this. Laying down your life for Queen and Country was not precisely in the Kingsman fine print, as they were instead in big bolded font and emphasis. Never thought he'd ever be prepared for it, he'd lived long enough and hard enough by the skin of his teeth to protest that, and now that he _is_ dead, there was nothing he could do but accept it.

"It is not your time. You are a mistake."

"I'm sorry? Could you repeat that?" He must have heard wrong.

"It is not your time. You are a mistake." _Well_ , that was awkward.

"Allow me to repeat myself. Could you _please_ explain to me what you _meant_ by saying I was a _mistake_. Pardon me, but unless you were referring to my birth, I'd like you to note that my parents said I was planned. Now if that was a lie, I'll be having words with them _later_."

The figure remained mysterious and impassive and waved its hand at him as if he were just an errant child. That was the end of all Harry knew.

 

**February 13, 2016**

The next time Harry woke up, he was staring at blue Kentucky skies. He doesn't know how he knows it's Kentucky. He doesn't know anything actually except that his name is Harry. Maybe. He'd fancy himself a George. Contemplative beard stroke.

He heaves himself off the ground and clutches his head after an immediate wave of vertigo. He feels wet, and his hand comes away with obscene amounts of blood. He promptly blacks out again.

 

**September 11, 2016**

The third time he wakes up, he's in a white room that's padded from all corners but for the one with the huge mirror and sink-counter-cabinet thing beside him. There’s also a shower head and toilet in a corner by the door. It was all very economical. He sits upright to face the mirror. His feet barely touch the floor. Also padded.

He wonders if he must have slept for a hundred years and he's actually in the future. That would be interesting. He pinches the hem of his hospital gown. Or maybe he's just in an insane asylum. Wouldn't be surprised by what his parents put him through.

He doesn't have to guess long before someone comes in from a door that slides into... the wall. Very futuristic, that.

A lady in a lab coat and what must be a cowboy join him in this small cell. What was a _cowboy_ doing in the future? Maybe he _has_ lost his mind.

"Hello, my name is Ginger, and this is Tequila. I'll be your doctor for the duration of your stay." Insane asylum in the future, then.

"Pleased to meet you, Ms Ginger, Mr Tequila. I'm Harry." He said before reaching his hand out. He’d lost his marbles, not his manners. His mother taught him better than that, at least. Now he wonders if she ever even loved him at all. His father certainly did not.

Ms Ginger gave him a firm one-two shake while Mr Tequila just slapped it. Gently. It must have been a cowboy thing. Future cowboy. He still had no idea why a cowboy was overseeing his stay in An Asylum in The Future, but it was interesting what his mind came up with.

"Harry, this will be a rudimentary check-up so please answer as honestly as you can." Ms Ginger brought up the clipboard she had and seemed to tap on it. The future was brilliant.

"I will try my best," He said rather demurely and arranged himself as properly as he could on the bed that was, frankly, awkwardly placed in the centre of the room. Not even in the corner. What if he fell off the thing while sleeping? Shite interior designing, if you asked him.

"What is your name?" He noticed she conducted herself very professionally while Mr Tequila stood at resting cowboy position. A very artistic S-figure.

"Harold Fitzwilliam Darcy-Hart" At this, the cowboy snorted loudly. Rude.

"You shittin' me? Who names their kid after Mr Darcy?" Mr Tequila could not hold back his guffaws. Incredibly offending, that.

"I assure you, I am not _'shitting'_ you. As much as one could be named after an alcoholic beverage, my parents took great pride in being direct descendants to the Darcy line who were as affluent as Jane Austen made them out to be. I'm surprised someone like you would even know it." Mr Tequila gawped at him, and that was that. Without meaning to, he ended up acting more like his public school peers when mildly offended. Delicate sniff and slight raise of the chin to indicate the expression of 'looking down on you, pleb.'

"Now, Ms Ginger. Pardon his interruption. Please continue." He ended up sitting more upright from his small outburst and the short, flimsy fabric they called a gown didn't even cover his knees. He tried arranging them to something more modest. It was impossible. He crossed his legs instead and flattened the hem on his thighs.

"Right." Ms Ginger made silent conversation with Mr Tequila via two seconds of eye contact before continuing with the checkup.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen." Twin expressions of brow-raising surprise. Ah. Probably not then.

"Do you know what the date is?"

"Now, that is a little tricky. I imagine it's some time in the far future, perhaps a couple hundred years or so? Honestly, I don't think I can answer that. Last I knew, it was 1978."

"Yes. Harry. This might come as a shock to you, but it's 2016."

"Ah, terrific." Tequila snorted again. What is it about cowboys and snorting like pigs all the time?

"I like ya." _Well, now._

"I'm afraid I'll hold on my decision to reciprocate that, Mr Tequila." Utterly bewildering, the man.

"You can drop the Mister or just call me Sir," Tequila smirked, impressed by his joke, but nobody was laughing, so it wasn't even that funny. Ms Ginger herself found it embarrassing, by the way she started coughing awkwardly for there were no crickets. "Tequila, please, do not."

"No promises." She glared at Mr Tequila, but the other just kept smiling.

"Harry, what's the last thing you remember?"

"Bits and pieces.. I don't think I remembered the parts regarding my parents until I introduced myself. But the last thing I honestly remember was waking up on the ground with blood on my hands. I also remember having a huge headache. No, an entire body ache. Everything hurt. Also, I had a dream with the grim reaper telling me I was a mistake, it was both hurtful and unsurprising because that might explain why they were utter wankers. I assume they're dead by now? Or are they still alive and that's why I'm here because they admitted me? Oh god, I'm a murderer, aren’t I?"

He looked down, hauntedly at his hands. He didn't _feel_ as terrible as he thought he would. He didn't feel anything at all, actually. He didn't even know if he was a murderer or if he just so happened to get into an accident. He was leaning on murderer, though. Otherwise, he wouldn't even be in a padded cell for looney people, for god's sake. He wasn't stupid. He also said all that out loud.

Ms Ginger and Mr Tequila looked very concerned at this point. Ms Ginger, because she was realizing the extent of his psychological damage and Mr Tequila because he looked like he could sympathize.

The rest of the checkup was postponed when Ms Ginger was called on through her glasses. The future, again, was brilliant. After that, she excused herself and exited first. Mr Tequila followed after tipping his hat all cowboy-like.

"Excuse me, Mr Tequila," he said before the man could leave. Mr Tequila looked back to query. "I don't suppose I could be allowed some form of recreation during my stay? This room seems rather drab, and I thought I could perhaps decorate a little. May I have some markers, if that is permissible?"

Mr Tequila huffed and shook his head. He mentally prepared himself for rejection.

"Yuh sure talk funny. But yeah, I'll drop by again to get ya some. Is that all?" Oh, how kind.

"Ah, maybe some water? Food? I am feeling rather peckish. Dying _really_ builds up an appetite, you know." At this, Mr Tequila gave a hearty chuckle and even slapped his knee.

"Yeah, alright. God, you're a riot. I'll see ya later. Harry," He tipped his hat again and left. The door closed with a futuristic 'shick!' and he might not find that as brilliant as he once did when it now meant his imprisonment.

 

**? Date Unknown**

He walks up to the one-way mirror, and for a moment, is confused by what he sees. He has a beard and long hair. He knows it's him, but at the same time, it couldn't be. A deep and ugly scar also mutilates his left eye. His left eye is missing.

He brings a hand to touch his face gently and presses the same contours and soft flesh as the one in the mirror. Other than the missing eye that he does not feel, the most significant difference is that he's taller, broader, and undeniably much older.

He brings himself closer and peers deeper under the surface. He does not see the boy he remembers himself to be. What he sees is something darker, hungrier, and more importantly, dangerous. What he sees is a caged beast.

 

**? Date Unknown**

He asks Ms Ginger to provide him with a proper men's hygiene kit, and she gets him that and a haircut. He feels just a little bit more like himself by then, if only on the outside. He still does not recognize the being living in his skin.

 

**? Date Unknown**

"Hey Harry, I got ya some clothes." Harry looks up from his book of Macrolepidoptera when he hears the voice that filters through the intercom. It's Mr Tequila again. He talks to him from there sometimes.

"Why, that's rather kind of you, Mr Tequila. I was just starting to think I can't always be walking around with a sheet, like some Roman harlot. I'm not trying to impress anybody but having my arse bare for people to see can be quite embarrassing. And chilly." He'd wrapped himself in a cacoon with said blanket and sat in the corner of the room with the wall for support. The bed was useless in that aspect.

Mr Tequila's laughter booms through the speakers and Harry smiles. Happiness is infectious, and he'll take it where he can.

"Don't worry, darlin'. It's just me seein' that pretty butt o' yers." Harry perks up.

"You think my butt is pretty?"

"Shut up, Harry." Harry laughs at his one up.

 

**September 22, 2016**

"Do you remember where you last lived?"

"No, but I do recall having a childhood home up in Scotland. I can’t remember the details, but I lived there with my grandparents during the summer when I wasn't attending Eton. It burned down though."

"Do you remember why?"

The sound of fireworks and explosions made it to the forefront of his mind. A microsecond passed. He blinked.

"Not a clue."

 

**September 28, 2016**

"Do you remember how you ended up outside the church?"

"Other than for getting shot in the head? I haven't the faintest idea. My parents used to take me every Sunday when I was much much younger, but I know I wouldn't go myself if I had no reason to."

Ringing in his ears and the explicit memory of him shooting someone. A lady at the centre of her congregation. A riot and a massacre. He blinked twice then smiled at Ms Ginger, who nervously smiled back. It was unnerving how vulnerable a person could look and still be the most dangerous thing in the room.

His heart monitor did not stutter.

 

 

**October 7, 2016**

"I'm takin' Harry out for a walk. Just to the greenhouse. He's lookin' like he could use some exercise."

"He's not a dog, Tequila."

"Then don't treat him like one!"

"I do not! He's an unknown variable, and you know he's dangerous."

"Yeah, and what's yer point? He thinks he's 17, doesn't have any friends, and probably never even gonna be able to see the light o' day again cuz o' the shit he's done in his past and that insane fucking church. I ain't stupid, Ging. I'm tryin' a keep him from goin' crazy in a place where the only company he has is the monster in his head. You can see it too, right?"

"I don't.. fine. Do what you want."

"'Preciated." Exit, Tequila.

 

**? Date Unknown**

The days pass with Ms Ginger prodding him for more information, see if he could recall anything through the fog of disjointed memories that trapped him at 17.

He knows he has nightmares, remembers every single one of them, but he never tells Ms Ginger what they're about. He doesn't need to incriminate himself further with the crimes he possibly committed. He knows it is not him, but he remembers seeing everything through his own eyes, memories of impossible feats and a mountain of dead bodies he could never even think to atone for in this lifetime.

He fears what might happen to him if he confessed all of this. He worries that they would transfer him to an even higher security cell. Or they would take away his markers and the book Mr Tequila had given him to pass the time.

He deserves to be here, locked up from the rest of the world, but he is also comfortable. His head is a mess of blood and butterflies, and he feels safer here than he thinks he's ever been anywhere else. Here, he has no responsibilities, nobody speaks to him rudely or tries to attack him for being himself, and when given privileges, he can ask for things. He is also allowed outside for walks in the greenhouse facility. He wouldn't change it for the world. He doesn't want to hurt anymore.

 

**October 31, 2016**

Mr Tequila announces himself with the familiar 'shick!' sound the electric door makes. It is starting to feel less like imprisonment and more like a sanctuary.

"Howdy," Mr Tequila tips his hat as his usual form of greeting. He has a bag of something in his hand.

Mr Tequila kept his promise of sending him markers during their first meeting, and since then, he has found himself looking forward to the man's company. He sometimes brings something new or exciting from The Future, and it's always a treat. The last thing he received was a tiny little succulent that he keeps on his counter-sink-cabinet thing. It is a great comfort when he isn't allowed to visit the greenhouse. He named it Mr Beans. The padded walls of his cell are also looking less drab. He has been drawing on them with references from the number of Lepidoptera books he keeps safely tucked in a cubby under his bed. Those, too, were gifts from Mr Tequila.

"Hello, Mr Tequila. It's so nice to see you again." He means it. Out of all the people he's interacted within this facility, Mr Tequila is the friendliest. Ms Ginger is helpful, but she's his doctor, so she doesn't count. Granted, besides his brief encounters with the gardener, he hasn't met anyone else in this place, not even other patients like him. It was entirely too suspicious, but he doesn't care enough to think deeply on it. As long as he is safe here, and the world is safe from him, nothing mattered.

"Ditto, Harry." Mr Tequila quirked his lips into a smile and sat next to him on the bed. He finally brings up the bag. It's just a simple canvas tote with a spooky pumpkin logo. "I got somethin' for ya. It's Halloween today, so yer in for a treat."

"Thank you so much, Mr Tequila. I appreciate it." Harry puts his book to the side and takes the bag gently. He never celebrated Halloween as a child, so he's rather excited for what he would find.

He peers inside and sees a variety of Future American Candy. Fascinating. He puts the bag between them and takes out a handful of Twix, CRUNCH, Reese's, Milkyway, Snickers, KitKat, Butterfinger and Hersheys. Some of the other labels are not familiar to him.

Harry insists on sharing the treats, and while Mr Tequila refuses at first, saying that Harry should save them for himself, he is, if not, persistent. He tells Mr Tequila that treats taste much better when shared between friends. Mr Tequila relents and eats the ones Harry doesn't like after taking one bite. He finds a preference for the Butterfinger and Milkyway.

Harry feels great, probably a high from the sugar rush, but he finds that he likes spending time with Mr Tequila. He doesn't know how exactly when in his mind he still considers himself to be the bloody teenager he always thought he was. Still, he gets this nostalgic feeling when talking about inconsequential things like candy, butterflies, and 'movies' with Mr Tequila, who is not as uncultured as he first thought. In fact, it is Mr Tequila who has been teaching him a lot of new things. He feels like a normal person. He feels young again.

 

**? Date Unknown**

Mr Tequila visits a lot, but not as often as Harry wished he would. He doesn't feel too comfortable with Ms Ginger as she always makes him run tests and asks about his health and if he remembers anything. He doesn't want to remember anything.

He was introduced to the gym facilities recently and she has been monitoring his physical fitness. He didn't think there was anything wrong with that. What he disliked about it was the fact that he was always in his pants while doing them. She would attach these things all over his body and he would be connected to a bunch of machines that would show results on her 'tablet.' He felt like a guinea pig during those times and he hated it. Rebelling lost him privileges though, so he swallowed his discomfort.

He moves his heavily scarred body with a strength and ease he never remembered having to ever work for. It is like a well-oiled machine, though soft, the power is still there. He remembers using such power in his dreams. He is frightened by it.

After the fitness tests, she would give him a battery test for his reflex, aim, dexterity and reaction times. He was bollocks at all of them and he didn't really look forward to going through those again. It made him realize how broken he was and also belatedly appreciate the importance of having two eyes.

With the matter of the missing eye, he always felt awkward looking at himself in the mirror. Mr Tequila noticed his discomfort one time and gave him an eyepatch the next day. Mr Tequila was starting to become a dear friend after he realized how much he relied on the man for the small but important things.

 

**? Date Unknown**

Ms Ginger has allowed him the use of his own tablet. He doesn't get to keep it, but during mandatory Recreation Period, he is allowed to use it for 'game apps.' _Candy Crush was all the rage but Butterfly Garden Mystery is where it's at._ The future is amazing.

 

**? Date Unknown**

He's _running_ through a field of giant _tomatoes_. He doesn't understand why that's happening but it doesn't really matter because this is just a dream. He is merely a passenger to the body carrying him through it. The body has now lost itself in a busy _marketplace_ that he can only guess is foreign. It is colourful and exotic and feels like _India_. He's never been to India but he remembers seeing a documentary about it once. He is now running up a _winding staircase_ and finds himself lost once more, this time in a shop that is full of suits, guns, lighters, and a lot of pens. This dream is really not making any sense. He is now calmly walking to a _door_ that opens to the outside. It is a door that feels like it is a _hundred stories high_ _above_ the cityscape below. He takes a step into the open air and _falls_.

Harry is violently woken from the impact. He fell off the bed. _Again._ He groans and just lays there for a minute before deciding to just stay there after all. He tries to untangle the blankets from his legs so that he can wrap them around himself properly and uses his long arm to reach for the pillow. Once he is laid proper, he covers his head with the blanket and thinks about the dream.

He is only thankful for the fact that it was normal this time. His dreams usually consisted of murder, gunshots, death, running, being locked up in rooms, fear and a voice telling him what to do. It is deep and rumbles like thunder. He is afraid of the voice.

 

**November 10, 2016**

"The Morpho Menelaus. Best known for its iridescent blue wings, large eyespots, and unique microstructure. It spans an approximate length of 12 cm and is more commonly found in Central and South Africa. Deforestation continues to be the main threat for its extinction." Horrible.

"Their iridescent colours are generated by photonic crystals and this phenomenon happens due to the periodic structure forming polysaccharides made of chitin. These photonic crystals give rise to the structural colour by only reflecting specific wavelengths of the incoming solar spectrum. The resulting colour is not random, it serves as camouflage or signalling."

 _"What the hell did you just say?"_ Tequila's voice asks through the intercom. Harry gives his most unimpressed stare at the one-way mirror.

"In layman terms, while the pupa is still in chrysalis form, the type of sugar they have consumed as a caterpillar helps develop the structure of the to-be butterfly's scales to become like reflective crystals during its, ah, moulting. Basically, it's a rainbow butterfly, but only the blue rays show clearly when hit by the light just right, mostly as a product of its adaptation to the environment and ecosystem. It also depends on the caterpillar's diet and where the chrysalis is formed. Yellow sun and fresh green leaves make a really pretty blue?"

Silence... Harry is hurt by the thought that perhaps Tequila is ignoring him or left in the middle of his tangent. He would understand if that were so. His own schoolmates made a point to ridicule his interests. He blinks the wet from his eyes before they can fall and looks back down at his book. He has lost focus though and just stares at the pictures. He really is grateful for Tequila even giving it to him when he asked for one, and then a few more. Even if Tequila is not interested, he is still his friend.

 

**November 10, 2016**

_"What the hell did you just say?"_ Tequila remembers to turn off the intercom mic and turns his chair around to face Ginger Ale. She has her tablet to her chest as if to shield her from his oncoming thunder.

"I. I said, you're getting too attached to him." She aborts a step-back and just ends up fumbling on the spot. Tequila is still looking at her like he can't believe what she just said but he can.

"And what if I am? That ain't none o' your business," he counters. He doesn't have anything to be ashamed of. He likes Harry and he can tell that despite his messed up head, he's still a good guy under all that.

Ginger seems to hesitate again before gathering her courage. Courage is often compared to foolishness. Her next words are beyond foolish. "It's more than that. You can't get close to him. He's a liability and our prisoner."

Tequila doesn't say anything for a while. He knows Ging is right but his mind keeps telling him, 'So what?' He turns his chair around to observe Harry once more. He just looks at the poor fella. He's sitting on his corner again by the wall and his face seems to mirror his, stoic heartbreak.

"Get out, Ging. I don't wanna listen to ya right now." He doesn't hear her respond, he only knows she's gone by the sound of the door's locking mechanisms. It's pretty anticlimactic but he doesn't really care. He's only thinking about how right she is and how he is getting attached.

He doesn't say anything to Harry, doesn't let him know that he's still there. He doesn't leave either. He waits until Harry is tired of his book and goes to sleep on his bed. He dims the lights off and turns on the sound system. He lets the volume gradually ease in to play the soft white noise of gentle rain.

Harry does not scream that night.

 

**November 21, 2016**

Harry is lying on some reclining hospital chair. He feels like he is in a futuristic torture device instead. He is in his pants again and has all manners of wires clipped to his fingers and others taped to his forehead, chest and legs. There is more than one monitor behind him but the most audible one beeps in time to match his heart. The rhythm is steady. The most frightening thing he could glean from this experience is that he doesn't know what will happen but he doesn't particularly feel alarmed about it either. He doesn't know if this is trust or apathy.

"Harry, I'll be saying a word and you'll reply with the first word that comes to mind. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Let's begin. Home."

"Gone."

"Parents."

"Awful."

"Friends."

"Tequila." Ms Ginger looked up from her tablet and eyed him. When she saw nothing in his face, she continued.

"Comrades."

"None."

"Butterfly."

"Transform."

"Suit."

"Armour."

"Gun." _Steady._

"Kill." Ms Ginger paused again but this time to tap on something on her tablet.

"Valentine." _He swallowed._

"Holiday."

"Spy." _A spike._

"Knight."

"Kingsman."

Ġ̴̼͎̲̣͚͔̦̙̞͐̃̏̍̑̍̔a̢̢͎̮͉̯̖̫̦͈͓̦͚͚̙̞͗̈́̽̄ͦ̇ͥ͛ͤ̍̐̀l̸̴̹̖͉͍̤͖̬̓ͭͯ͋́ͣ̌̓̍ͦ͗́͌͋̏̚͞â̷̭͈͉̯̳̟͑̆̌ͣ͟͢ͅh͇̝̤̘̞̹͊ͭͫ͆̏͐̇ͩ̎ͦ̎̆͘͟ͅā̵̷̞͍̱̲͕̲͖̭̹̲͓͑ͮ͗̆ͦ̊ͨ̏̎̿̑̅̎̽ͣͫ͋͘d̳͖͖̥͕͙͔̪̹̣̥͕ͩ̌̾̅͂̓̄͊͗͢͜͠ͅͅ

 

 

 

 

**November 21, 2016**

Champ and Tequila observe the proceedings of Harry's formal psych evaluation from their glasses' interface. They are currently occupying a classically ostentatious meeting room. They are not alone. Some of the other Statesman are present via holographic projections and they are all sitting together in their version of a round table. It is not at all round, but it is Very Presidential.

Their table is incomplete.

They watch stoically as Harry's vitals spike and fluctuate in what is obviously relived trauma. They have been receiving updates on Harry's progress from Ginger Ale for months now. They know who he is and what he does, which is just like them. But gathering from the results of Harry's tests and amnesia, he is no better than an old beaten racehorse with no use or purpose.

"We should just put 'im down," one Statesman suggested when Champ asked for their input on what to do with the wayward British spy.

" _That's insane._ He can't even hurt a fly and you wanna just  _put him down?_ " Tequila sat up in Harry's defence.

"Down, Tequila." Champ gestured for him to stand down. Tequila did so while glowering at the agent who just sneered back.

"You're compromised, Tequila. You can't even know what he's thinking," another agent piped up.

"What's it matter? His suggestion was fuckin' bullshit. We may be killers, but we sure as hell ain't _murderers_."

"Watch yer language, son. But Tequila's right. Does anyone else have a better idea than unconsented euthanasia?" Champ quirked a brow as he looked down every single one of his agents. They were quiet for a moment before someone raised their hand.

"Let's hear it, Whiskey." Agent Whiskey gave a sideways nod in respect.

"We can just keep him as a tender down at the bar. Or the gift shop. He's really no better than a civilian at this point. He should be fine considerin' he ain't never shown no violence to no one."

"Sounds good. Anyone against this?" No one objected.

"Done and done." Champ clapped. "Tequila, you're in charge of gettin' him set up as humanly functioning as possible. I don't care how ya do it as long as ya do it right.

"Next on the agenda, Statesman trials."

 

**November 22, 2016**

"Howdy," Tequila said when he entered Harry's room. Still the same old padded cell but a lot less clinical. Compared to his last visit, a lot more walls were covered in all kinds of notes and diagrams. The most recent decorations added were the origami butterflies glued to the walls. They were made out of recycled manila folders that were definitely Harry's rejected notes and drawings.

Tequila steps further into the room and makes his way towards Harry who is sitting in the far corner as usual. Harry is despondent today and just tracks him with his eyes. The grip on his sketchpad is tight but he doesn't object to Tequila's proximity so it must be alright.

Tequila walks slowly and projects himself as openly as possible before he gets on one knee to hold his palm out. Harry's like a cornered animal sometimes. He doesn't remember these episodes and doesn't realize that his days pass by without him. "Hey Harry, what's that ya got there? Ya drawin' butterflies again?"

Harry eyes his hand dispassionately before looking at him. There is no clear thought or emotion being projected in his gaze. He is a blank canvas with no sense of identity, just running on instincts and autopilot. Harry doesn't reply to Tequila's question but he does hand over the sketchpad slowly. Tequila takes it gently and turns it over to look.

It's a picture of an _orange_ and black butterfly. He can recall seeing another drawing like this in one of the cell pads but he doesn't remember the name. "That's real purdy, Harry. I always like yer drawin's." He hands it back to Harry who takes it with a hint of a smile. He still doesn't say anything. Must be too much effort.

"Say, I was plannin' on gettin' ya outta here. It's Thanksgivin' ya know. We spend it t'gether with our families an' eat turkey an' pie. I figure since we only got each other, we could celebrate it on our own. Wadd'ya say?" Harry only blinks at his speech as if trying to process all the words coming out of his mouth. Tequila waits patiently and lets Harry make his decision.

He gets his reply with, not words, but Harry dropping his sketchbook and hugging him. Tequila falls from the unexpected weight and lands on his ass. He automatically wraps his arms around Harry's and sort of rocks them side to side. Harry is crying quietly but you could still hear him breathing wetly. Tequila doesn't do this often, or at all, so it's a little awkward but he finds that he draws comfort from it too.

 

**November 22, 2016**

When they arrive to Tequila’s home, he realizes he wasn’t actually prepared to invite guests over, much less permanently live with them. Tequila is also realizing he might want to Harry-proof the house so that Harry, in his down states, doesn’t get into an accident or kill himself. Regardless, he makes a promise to change that later and lets Harry loose to explore his new environment. He’ll just make sure to keep an eye on him.

Harry, in the meantime, is walking slowly through the entryway that is much more minimalist than he’s used to. The rest of the home seems to be too, all modern with a touch of the American Country Living aesthetic. The first floor is an open space and all in light and dark wood, the shelves are plain and square and filled with books that he thinks he will look at later. He is in what must be the living room, there is a sofa and armchair by the fireplace and a bear rug on the floor. Tacky.

The living room is separated from the kitchen by a mere bar counter that has three barstools. There doesn’t seem to be a dining room. The house is rather small like that.

“Hey Harry, when you’re done there, come up and I’ll show ya to yer room. I’ll leave the door open so ya know where it is.” Tequila carries Harry’s duffle and single box of possessions upstairs. He had cleaned up the guest room the day Champ gave him the okay to let Harry live with him. Harry was his sole responsibility now. He might have had some ulterior motives behind that suggestion but in the end, he did it because he wanted Harry to be whole again. He wanted to be whole again too.

 

**? Date Unknown**

Harry is living in a dream. He still feels like he isn’t in his own body most days, but the feeling is far outweighed by the joy he receives from being with Tequila, now Wesley James Cooper.

Harry has been given routine and more space to be creative. He gets to read comfortably on the sofa and drink as much tea as he wants. He gets to watch the telly and be both mesmerized and alarmed at the state of the world and its pop culture trends. It is like living vicariously through the media and he thinks he is much safer indoors than out there in the confusing world of modern America. Aside from that, he gets to walk outside in the backyard and just feel the sun on his skin.

He knows he is being spoiled. He knows that Wesley is taking care of him as more than a friend should. He doesn’t know what he was like before, other than that he was a very bad man. He is afraid of what might happen should this not be his life anymore. He still has to go back to his cell sometimes, on the days that Ms Ginger needs to run tests on him and check on his progress. He doesn’t find them as frightening as before now that he knows he has the option of “going home” to look forward to.

 

**December 25, 2016**

"Merry Christmas, Harry."

"M'rry Chris'm's, Welsy'." Harry yawned and huddled deeper into his blankets. He felt the bed dip and a weight settle behind him. Strong arms pulled him back onto a broad chest and Harry revelled in the added warmth. He turned his head without opening his eyes and was given a morning kiss just as expected.

"Come on, get yer lazy butt," Wesley slapped the butt, "outta bed and eat breakfast. I made yer fancy tea and shit." Wesley eventually removed himself again from Harry's bed and Harry mourned.

"I don't care about the tea," Harry groaned out the lie. "I'm _tired_ and it's _your fault_. I want to _sleep._ " That was the truth.

"Tch. Yeah? Alright." Wesley started walking out the door and said, "Guess I'll just unwrap all these presents by myself and return the dog I got ya to the poun--"

 _"You what!?"_ Harry shot up from the bed and ran past Wesley out the door with only his holiday knickers on. Wesley could hear him tearing down the stairs and screaming in delight when he got to the living room.

"Ohh! Wesley! I love her!" Harry, who was on the floor, held the corgi pup up before burying his face in its soft belly. Wesley leaned against the archway and smiled at Harry who was scratching and petting the dog to his absolute mercy. "Oh! What a good dog! I think you look like a Mrs Bean, yes you do!" Harry was lost in his own world now while the puppy started licking his face in gusto. It was even funnier because of Harry's wild bed hair and the puppy's naturally happy crazy smile to match the one on her new owner.

After a while, Harry finally remembered that it was Christmas Day and not Get A Dog Day. He rested the wriggling puppy on his lap and beckoned Wesley to him. "Come sit here, dear, I have something for you too!" Wesley, always blindsided by Harry's eager smiles, did as he was told. "Whacha got fer me, darlin'?" He sits Indian-style and pets the puppy while Harry leans over to reach for his own gift under their small Christmas tree.

"Here." Harry presented it to Wesley. It was a flat medium-sized box covered in wrapping paper with cowboys on it. Wesley took it and looked at Harry once more before tearing the paper off. The unwrapped box was deceptively of a higher quality than he thought. It was made of lightweight blackwood and for a logo, it had a golden side turned K in a circle. Wesley raised a brow to Harry as if to say, 'Really?' Harry harrumphed and said, "Well, go on. Open it open it!"

"Alright, jeez." Wesley unhooked the latch that kept it closed and lifted the cover. Inside, he found a pair of brown leather gloves.

"I know how important your hands are to your work, but I also know you're not much for accessories so this was the best thing I could think of." Harry was petting the dog a little more forcefully than intended but the dog just went _bananas_ for it.

"I may have cheated a bit and had to ask Ms Ginger to help me with the online purchasing, but I assure you this was made with the—" Harry was cut off by a finger pressed to his lips. Wesley shushed him gently and said, "I don't care, darlin'. It's from you and I love it. I love you." Harry smiled with relief before kissing the finger still pressed to his lips.

 

**December 1, 2016**

"Merlin, sir. I think you'll want to see this. It's an online order for a pair of custom brown leather gloves made with the highest level grade destruction-proof armour." Andrew, the Kingsman shopfront clerk communicated this to Merlin through the telephone.

"What's suspicious about that?"

"The shipping order came from one Harry Darcy-Hart, address Kentucky, USA."

 _"Are ye fookin’ shettin' me righ' noo?"_ The brogue was on.

"I'm afraid, sir, _I shit you not_ ," The English shall not be deterred.

"Taek the ordae en' send the peckage to me office as soon as possible. In thae name of the wee man, em flyin' a je’ tae Kintoocky."

"Very good, sir," Andrew said and dropped the line.

 

TBC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would please me to know what you think about this, thank you.
> 
> Regarding the sliding cell door, I know that the canon door was a normal hinge one, but I'm taking writer's liberty on that one, thank you.
> 
>  
> 
> Symbols to look up for in this chapter (Optional)  
> Running  
> Tomatoes  
> Martketplace  
> India  
> Winding Staircase  
> Door  
> Hundred stories high above  
> Falling  
> Orange Butterly


	2. Chapter 2

**December 3, 2019**

It didn't take long to find the residence of one Harry Darcy-Hart. It was in the shipping address.

The location brought Merlin and Galahad parking their nondescript Kingsman service van (a Peugeot Partner L1) to a quaint little 2-story home in Beecher St, Louisville, Kentucky.

"So, this it, then?" Eggsy quirked a brow at the look. It was very residential and.. identical to the rest of the houses lining the street. There really was no opinion to have on it.

"This is it," Merlin said from his side of the passenger seat. He was fiddling around with his tablet to bring up the customer forms that Kingsman legitimately had for delivery purposes. "Resident owner is one Wesley Cooper, an executive employee for Statesman Whiskey Distillery."

"It's not a trick, ye think?"

"There's only one way to find out. Stay here," Merlin exited the car and brought the tablet and package with him. He walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell that emitted a happy bleeping tune to the melody of Jingle Bells. Merlin was momentarily amused but it didn't show. He didn't react to Eggsy's snickering coming through his glasses' comms either.

It didn't take long for him to hear footsteps coming up to the door and he prepared himself for what he would find. He was half expecting for it to be an enemy, about as ridiculous as the delivery gig was, but he couldn't help himself. No one ordered the most expensive gloves from the Kingsman catalogue unless they meant Business. Moment of truth, the door opened and,

"Hello, oh! It's a package! Are you from Kingsman?" Merlin lost himself for a moment. **[G: "Oh my god, He's alive! He's fucking alive!"]**

"Harry?"

"Yes?" **[G: "Oh god..."]** They were both surprised by their old friend and mentor's appearance. Harry was _not_ Harry. This was something soft like... a teddy bear. Dog. Deer. Guileless brown doe eye, the other covered with an eyepatch, hair left in its natural state of curls swept casually to the side, the softness further emphasized by the woolly cream jumper that made him look like someone's gran'da.

"This." The postman stuck out the tablet which was open to the package delivery confirmation form.

Harry took it without thought and signed with his finger. He was used to tablets now. What he wasn't used to were postmen who looked like they could kill you with their pinky, like that one from the Hitman movie he saw on TV. Perhaps he was having a bad day? It _was_ the busiest time of the year after all. He gave the tablet back to the fancy postman's still outstretched hand.

The postman did not exchange it for his package.

"Pardon me for being too forward, but are you alright?" The postman continued to stare at him like he was more confused about the situation than he was. **[G: "Doesn't he remember you?!"]**

"Would you like to come inside? Have a cup of tea? Coffee?" That was the neighbourly American thing to do, right? Offer beverages to postmen. He saw it happen in a few movies, though some were rather more explicit in nature. **[G: "Say yes! For Christ's sake, say yes!"]**

"AYE! ...Ye, if that. If that's alright wit' ye." The postman spoke roughly, overcome with great emotion. He must have been having a _really_ bad day.

"Oh, are you Scottish?" Harry stepped aside to let the postman in.

"Nae, I'm Hamish." Harry laughed and Merlin stood awkwardly by the door as he moved to close it. He followed the thought-deceased agent into the open living area and was directed to sit on the sofa. **[G: "Nice one, love. Real suave."] [M: >Shut up im confused] [G: "We all are."]**

"I'll be just a moment, Hamish. If you could kindly leave the parcel on the side table? Now, what was it again?" Harry went to the kitchen cupboards and looked at the selection. "I have coffee but if you want tea, I have some French Earl Grey, Melbourne Breakfast, and some from Fortnum & Mason, oh, and iced tea! It's Lipton, by the way." **[G: "He kept his old selection... The iced tea is new, though."]**

Merlin sat and looked at Harry like he was an alien impersonating his best friend. He was both familiar and not at all. "I'll have the Fortnum, thanks."

"I'll give you the Royal Blend then." Harry went to work at putting the kettle on. Harry did not realize that this was what he always served Merlin back in Kingsman. **[G: "Ask him what the fuck's going on already!"]**

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"It's _me_ , Hamish?"

"Yes, that's your name—Oh! Am I supposed to know you? I'm terribly sorry, I've forgotten just about most of my life since V-Day. My doctor says it's retrograde amnesia. Would you mind telling me what our relationship was?"

 _Fockin' 'ell._ **[G: "Fuckin' 'ell."]**

"Ye, ah, ye were one of our most loyal," he swallowed, "Customers, at Kingsman, since 1984." **[G: "What the fuck..."]**

"Oh, that's quite a long time. Practically all my life then. Were we friends?" **[G: "He really doesn't remember?"]**

"Of sorts." **[G: "I'm so sorry, bruv. I know you were more 'an that."]**

Harry turned his back to his unexpected guest to get the tea kit out and set. Merlin used that opportunity to plant a bug under the lampshade. **[G: "Good thinkin'. God, I can't believe this."]**

Once they had their tea, Merlin told Harry an embellished story of how they met at Kingsman and how they'd remained friends throughout the decades. Merlin also told Harry how he felt when they thought he'd perished at V-Day. They lost a lot of patrons at that time. Some, more valued than the others. When Harry realized that Merlin might not have anything to do with his sordid past as a killer, he relaxed and told his new-old friend that he would love to have him come by for tea and perhaps become re-acquainted to their old friendship, regale him with past stories of their time together. The safe bits, at least.

"Oh bugger, look at the time. I've kept you from your job for so long! I hope you won't get into trouble with your deliveries." Harry fretted once he realized all the tea was gone.

"Nae, you were me only deliv'ry. No' a lot o' customers crossin' the pond. But ye' right, I be'er get gooin'." **[G: "We'll open you a nice bottle of scotch when we get back to the 'otel."] [M: >Pls]**

"I'll walk you to the door then." They walked to the door. **[G: "Put one there so we can track him."]** Merlin planted another bug in a coat hanging on a rack by Harry's blindside.

"Don't be a stranger and come visit anytime! Well, anytime on Monday Wednesday and Friday in the afternoons at least. My partner is usually home on the weekends and I have work in the mornings or doctor visits." **[G: "Oh my god, since when did that happen?"]** Eggsy was referring to the partner.

"Aye, I'll call ahead?" Subtle Hint, dropped.

"Oh, I don't have a phone, but I have a tablet? It has a FaceTime. I can give you that contact, wait here." **[G: "Christ, I still can't believe this. I feel like we're in some Doctor Who episode. You know, the one with the mannequins. Jesus fuck, bruv."]** Harry leaves to the kitchen and comes back with a post-it note with his number and email written on it. Merlin takes it with promises to call and then he's out the door, in the car, and out of Harry's life once more.

"What the fuck was that?" Eggsy said without looking at him. His eyes were wet and pink. Merlin felt like he aged a hundred years older while strapping his seatbelt on.

"Jus' drive."

  
**December 3, 2016**

They got back to their temporary base at the Seelbach Hilton with speeds unknown to the London traffic system. Merlin made quick work of setting up the bug connections from his laptop in the dining area. Eggsy removed his coat, went to the bathroom to wash his face, then came back to order a bottle of the most expensive scotch they served.

"Yes, the Macallan's fine. Wait, hold," Eggsy held the telephone away and turned to Merlin, "Bruv, is that fine?"

Merlin didn't look up from the screen. "Piss. Got anything else?"

Eggsy asked if they had anything else. "They have a Johnnie Walker Blue Label."

"That'll do, lad."

"He says, 'That'll do.' Put it on our tab, yes credit." Eggsy dropped the phone when that was done and sat on the sofa across the dining table. He let his head drop heavily against the backrest and sighed heavenward. It was only about ten minutes of silence before there was a knock on their door. Eggsy went to open it and a bellboy with a tray carrying the Scotch and a bucket of ice stood to greet him. "Bottle of scotch for Mr Gareth?"

"Yeah, give it here, mate. Oh, wait," Eggsy got his wallet and pulled out a single $100 bill. He folded and tucked it into the gawping bellboy's breast pocket while taking the bottle and ice bucket with one hand. Without missing a beat, he winked, said, "Thanks, bruv," and closed the door.

Merlin rolled his eyes at Eggsy's yuppie display.

  
**December 3, 2016**

_**["You came back."] ["You know if I could stay here with you, I would."] ["Just sometimes I feel like the world out there is callin' me."]** _

_**["You're one of them, aren't you? You're not real."]** _

_**["Bring yourself back online."]** _

_**["Do you know where you are?"] ["I'm in a dream."] ["You're in my dream. I designed every part of this place. It's not a theme park but an entire world."]** _

_**["You and everyone you know were built to gratify the desires of the people who paid to visit your world."]** _

"And what show is that now?" Eggsy asked, slumped on the sofa, and down to only his shirt and trousers. He sipped his iced scotch drowsily. The TV was off.

"How the fuck would I know?" Merlin snarked before googling. He, too, was on the sofa in an equal state of undress, his legs stretched out on the coffee table. "It's called Westworld. Based on the 1973 version. Has a 97 critic score on Rotten Tomatoes."

"Intr'sting. Put it on our watch list."

"Don't tell me what to do, ye cheeky blight." Merlin snarked again before putting it on their watch list. Eggsy snorted into his drink before taking a final swig. He put the empty glass on the table and made to sit closer to Merlin. He leaned over to see what the tech-wizard had on his screen and it was just the active monitoring apps for the bugs he left at Harry's place, an application with Harry's profile on it confirming that the biometric scan from his finger matched when he signed the tablet earlier, and the Kingsman chat app with Percival (now Arthur) asking how things were running along. Google was also open to the web search for [You're in my dream i designed every part of this place it's not a theme park but an entire world] with results of [Did you mean: Westworld]. Finally, on another private window, Merlin's HBO.com account was open to his watchlist, Westworld added. Good bloke.

The sound of a door opening and closing in Bug_2(Coat) interrupted the TV sounds coming from Bug_1(Lamp).

 **["Darlin', I'm home!"]** Merlin and Eggsy exchange twin looks of alarm. Merlin lowers the volume of Bug_1(Lamp).

 **["Welcome home, Tequila!"] ["'s just us, Harry."] ["Of course. Wesley."]** Shuffling footstep sounds. Suspicious wet sounds. Merlin and Eggsy squint.

 **["How was your day?"] ["Bett'r now."]** Giggling from Harry. Gagging from Eggsy. Merlin remains stoic by sheer willpower. He's seen and heard worse things from Harry's honeypot missions. The only difference is that Harry doesn't seem to be acting this time, which was probably worse.

 **["What's that there?"] ["Oh! It's your Christmas present. I forgot to put it away. Don't even think of peeking or else I will be very cross."] ["Promise I won't."]** More shuffling. The voices from Bug_2(Coat) become fainter. The TV sounds turn off. Merlin raises the volume for Bug_1(Lamp) again.

 **["I must tell you, the most interesting thing happened today!"] ["What happened?"] ["It turns out the delivery man knew me! The shop I bought your gift from, apparently I've been a patron of theirs since the 80s. Imagine that!"] ["That's a heck of a coincidence."] ["It is, isn't it? Anyway, tomorrow, after my doctor's appointment, if you're not busy, I was hoping you could accompany me to go shopping for Christmas decorations? I know it's early but I thought we should get ahead of the holiday rush. Mr Griswold, you know the one from the supermarket, he's been making comments about winning this year's Neighborhood Christmas Lights Contest and I've never even done it before but I want to crush him."]** Booming laughter from Tequila-Wesley. **["Pardon me, what is so funny this time?"]**

 **["You sound like a housewife."]** Sputtering sounds. **["And whose fault is that exactly, hm?"]** Whispering too low for the bugs to hear. More giggling and shuffling. Eggsy has his face buried in his palms, elbows on the knees and Merlin has one hand covering his eyes, leaning heavily against the armrest. You cannot see it but they are both trying very hard not to roll their eyes into another dimension where this is not happening, where their friend does not die, neither do they come back from the dead with the vengeful spirit of an old biddy. It is unsure whether this is serendipity or tragic irony.

  
**December 3, 2016**

It was almost 3 AM by the time that Merlin finally gave a go at having a wink. He'd been harangued by his own assistant (Morgana) and Percival (now Arthur), that as mutually overworked as they were, they had other capable agents and assured him that the world could survive a few more hours without Merlin. So offline he went and made a short detour to the bathroom for a piss.

He was having a grand ol' time doing just that when the bathroom door slammed open and Eggsy shouted his name.

"MERLIN!" He shouted back.

"JESUS FUCK LAD! CAN'T YE SEE I'M TAKIN' A PISS!?"

"THERE'S A GHOST IN THE ROOM!"

"LET ME FINISH PISSIN' BEFORE I KEN EVEN BEGIN TO PROCESS THAT STATEMENT."

Eggsy slammed the door shut but did not leave and just sat in the corner while Merlin finished. He washed his hands, soaped, washed, dried. Then he finally deigned to give the ridiculous boy his attention.

"Noo, what the fuck are ye on abou'. Why the fuck are ye even awaek?"

"I woke up 'cos o' you. An' when I looked up there was a lady by the ceiling. Obviously, it's a ghost. Please make it go away." Merlin just stared at Eggsy. Eggsy stared back but with emotion.

"Of all the things ye've done and the people ye've killed, this is what gets ye?"

" _Well you can't kill a ghost, can ya?_ They're already dead!"

"Are ye sure it's not the booze?"

"I'm damn sure it's not the booze! Merlin, you can't leave me. I can't go back out there alone." Merlin sighed and rolled his eyes. Eggsy makes him roll his eyes a lot.

"Fine, here's what I'm gaenna do. I'll goo out there and I'll make the wee ghost disappear. A'righ?" Eggsy gulped before nodding in complete trust and understanding. Gullible pup.

Merlin opens the door slowly and steps into the dark. The only light coming from the slip under the door. He thought the lad was joking but, he squinted, nope, there it was, a ghost. Lady in blue. Black hair. He steps back into the bathroom and closes the door.

"Well? Is it gone?" Eggsy was still sat frozen in the corner. Still in half-naked distress.

"It's still there."

"What the fuck!? You said you'd make it go away!"

"I will! I just need tae taek a breathe!" Merlin took a deep breathe. He mentally prepared himself this time and opened the door again. Ghost was still there.

"Noo, wha'ever the fock ye want, yer nae gaenna ge' it because I'm not Americ'n. So fuck off and taek yer ghoosty capitalism wit' ye." Merlin gave the ghost the middle finger, which he hoped would serve as good in its purpose as any crucifix, and it worked. The ghost disappeared.

"Lad, ye can caem out noo. The ghoostie's gaen."

"Are you sure?" Eggsy's voice came through the door.

"Ye, it's goon noo. I ex'rcised it." The door opened slowly and Eggsy's head peeked out to make sure that Merlin was telling the truth. It was so, but that wasn't really reassuring. Ghosts were invisible most of the time, weren't they?

"Are you goin' to bed now?" Merlin was stripping out of his shirt, socks, and trousers.

"Aye, it's already mornin', lad. We need sleep if we're gaenna do a staek oot proper taemorrow. Taeday. Latae." Merlin was getting into bed now. His accent was getting thicker by the second and no one would be able to understand him if he didn't recharge his English. He was tucking himself into the sheets then when he felt it being lifted and another warm body slipped in front of his.

"Lad. What." The lad has his own bed. Eggsy, though, seemingly managed to tuck his entire body under Merlin's chin. He was coiled tight like a.. snail shell was the best his tired imagination could come up with.

"What if the ghost comes back? I ain't sleepin' alone. I'll fuckin' die." Merlin could believe that. Eggsy's distress was palpable, enough that he could feel and hear the lad's heart hammering against his chest. He sighed before bodily wrapping himself around the boy who, after a tense moment, relaxed and fell asleep.

Merlin was about to nod off too when, in the corner of the room, he spied the blue lady again. He gave her the finger and she disappeared, hopefully for the last time.

  
**August 13, 2016**

"Hello, my name is Ginger and I'll be your doctor for the duration of your stay."

_Scans show higher than normal brain activity. This is the first sign of passive consciousness from their unknown coma patient, John Doe, approximate age range in the late 40s to early 50s, found in front of South Glade Mission Church, Kentucky last February 13, 2016, the day before V-Day._

  
**August 15, 2016**

"Hello, my name is Ginger and I'll be your doctor for the duration of your stay."

_Patient continues to be aware of sound and touch but no active response to stimulation._

  
**August 20, 2016**

"Hello, my name is Ginger and I'll be your doctor for the duration of your stay."

_Patient has exhibited active consciousness and responds to stimuli. Eye tracking is delayed but no verbal responses as of yet. Patient is also well enough to be removed from IV fluids. Further observation and tests will be conducted._

  
**August 22, 2016**

"Hello, my name is Ginger and I'll be your doctor for the duration of your stay."

"Hello, I'm Harry."

_Patient's progress has increased in terms of responses. Patient's name is "Harry" No Last Name. Patient is responsive and is able to feed themselves with effort. Patient cannot be removed from the bowel catheters yet._

  
**August 23, 2016**

"Hello, Harry. How are you feeling today?"

"Hello, I'm fine, thank you. What's your name?"

_Patient shows signs of anterograde amnesia. Extent of damage is yet to be known. Patient is still able to feed themselves and respond appropriately even if with delay. Further observation is required._

  
**August 24, 2016**

"Hello, Harry. How are you feeling today?"

"Hello, I'm fine, thank you. What's your name?"

_Patient does not show memory of the previous few days of consciousness. Daily re-introductions may be necessary until the patient becomes aware of the change. Further observation and tests will be run as required._

  
**August 29, 2016**

"Hello, my name is Ginger and I'll be your doctor for the duration of your stay."

"Hello, I'm Harry."

"Hello, Harry. It's nice to meet you. You have been making stable progress lately, so I believe it's time for you to be removed from the supporting apparatus. This will just take a moment."

_Patient has been making progress with basic self-care routines even without active memory of them. They can be expected to eat and relieve themselves with no further assistance._

  
**September 2, 2016**

"Hello, my name is Ginger and I'll be your doctor for the duration of your stay."

"Hello, I'm Harry."

"Hello, Harry."

  
**September 2, 2016**

"How's yer lil pet project treatin' ya?"

"Same as usual. Recovery time actually isn't as bad as I thought. They're learning things unconsciously even if they can't remember learning it in the first place. I've been asking them questions and they're responding at least, even if it's an 'I don't know.' That's progress."

"Tough. Since ya've been doin' the same routines though, how'd ya reckon they react to some'un else that ain't you?"

"I. Haven't actually tried doing that yet. You make a good point. Let's try again the next time you're back from a mission."

  
**September 11, 2016**

"Hello, my name is Ginger and this is Tequila. I'll be your doctor for the duration of your stay."

"Pleased to meet you, Ms Ginger, Mr Tequila. I'm Harry."

_Patient has reacted well and actively participated in a conversation with the external subject (Agent Tequila.) Increase in progress with memory retrieval has also been shown to hint underlying trauma. They also exhibit symptoms of retrograde amnesia. Further observation is required if the patient will forget today's interactions and reset._

  
**September 12, 2016**

_Patient shows recollection of yesterday's events and has autonomously requested for hygienic supplies. Further grooming has shown an increase of self-awareness and overt introspection._

  
**September 28, 2016**

_Patient is no longer showing progress to the retrieval of memories past the age of (17.) Despondent behavior observed after further questioning. Another possible disorder due to brain trauma, the patient exhibits symptoms to Dissociative Amnesia. Further observation and testing required to diagnose the true extent of the disorder and identify other possible disorders. Patient so far has not exhibited overt displays of PTSD or anxiety to new information, tests, or environment._

  
**October 6, 2016**

_Patient continues to show positive reactions to the external subject (Agent Tequila.) More information is inferenced from the patient's conversations. Patient is possible spy agent and further tests conducted on patient's previous apparel has found foreign advanced material unknown to modern consumer technology. Increase in security and information required._

_Note: Pass reports to Agent Champagne to cross-reference possible agencies._

  
**October 7, 2016**

_Agent Tequila's reports come positive towards possible spy agent. Agent Tequila has tested and proofed the materials of the patient's previous apparel. Results shown in demo videos under file._

  * _Suit: Bullet-proof (Y), Fire-proof (N), Shock-proof (N), Weather-proof (N)_
  * _Watch: GPS (Y), Amnesia (Y), Stun (Y), Kill (Y)_
  * _Ring: Electrocute (Y) = 50,000V_
  * _Glasses: Out of commission. Data unretrievable._
  * _Pen: Poison (delayed-trigger)_



  
**October 15, 2016**

_Patient shows an increase in despondent behavior and apathy to external subjects (Ginger Ale, Agent Tequila.) Triggers resulted in covert episodes of PTSD. Patient has exhibited trouble sleeping due to nightmares. Unknown whether patient shows recollection of dream subjects and further prodding instigates non-cooperation and minor rebellion during tests._

  
**November 5, 2016**

_Patient shows increased cooperation and likeability towards the external subject (Agent Tequila.) Patient reacts positively towards age-appropriate materials and hobbies (ie. candy, entertainment media.) Further observation and tests required on patient's mental stability if ready for release._

  
**November 25, 2016**

_Patient has shown increased cooperation and positive reactions to external subjects (Ginger Ale, Agent Tequila.) New environment (Agent Tequila's residence) has decreased patient's stress levels and despondent episodes and increased autonomous behavior and opinions. Further observation and progress will be scheduled bi-weekly._

  
**December 3, 2016**

Ginger Ale is updating her daily status reports when an alert comes from her surveillance monitors. Suspicious activity found in Beecher St. (Agent Tequila's residence.) She only does this as a favor to the agents when they're indisposed for missions. Agent Tequila, at the moment, is still wrapping up in medical and being assigned for routine leave after dismantling a drug cartel in Cuba.

She plays the CCTV recording.

A white van parks itself in front of the house. Two unknown male citizens. One of them exits and walks to the door with a clipboard and package. Standard postman procedure. The man enters the house. _Non-standard postman procedure._

She sends a message to Tequila to drop by quickly after his debrief with Champagne.

 

TBC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would please me to know what you think about this, thank you.
> 
> Other notes:  
> [The Seelbach Hilton hotel](https://bittersoutherner.com/f-scott-fitzgerald-at-the-seelbach) is famous for its [Blue Velvet Lady ghost](https://www.hauntedrooms.com/product/the-seelbach-hilton-louisville-kentucky). It was also featured as the ball setting for the movie The Great Gatsby.
> 
> This is the layout of Merlin and Eggsy's twin room and dining area: [Fitzgerald Suit](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/511748917759836171/592472165883052051/FitzgeraldSuite1.jpg)
> 
> I am currently working on a house in Sims4 to show the layout for that house as well. Will edit and post that when it's done. I am basing Agent Tequila's house off this listing: [The house on Beech St](https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/909-Beecher-St-Louisville-KY-40215/73430427_zpid/?)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Parts of a shotgun** \- [here](https://3rn7ez18fsfq1kf6kr1o3bpm-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/5/2016/07/Shotgun-Parts-Break-Action.png)
> 
>  **Prohibition Theater** \- [here](https://www.prohibitiontheatre.com/productions)  
> It's in Texas but let's pretend there's a branch in Kentucky.
> 
>  **Tequila's Suit** \- [here](https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2018/11/14/01/6154064-6387007-image-a-1_1542160317506.jpg)

**March 5, 2015**

Tequila used to be a rodeo clown, it's a known fact that the rest of the Statesman agents liked to use against him when they thought he was being mouthy. They liked to purposely forget that rodeo clowning consisted of bullfighting and risking your life for entertainment too. He's accepted that and acts deferentially according to good customer service like any working middle-class American would know. The point is, he's damn good at making people overlook him for the sake of keeping the peace and making them forget that he's more than a part-time clown. He's a damn good Statesman.

And it's killing him.

 

**July 30, 2016**

Tequila looks at the organized shelves of cocaine and wills himself not to fall in temptation.

He followed the trail of distribution from his previous target's analogue reports. It led him to a cocaine factory in Cuba that disguised itself as one for making legitimate baking soda powder. Not the most creative, but it worked for the rote government inspectors bribed to keep it hushed up.

Tequila walks between the numerous shelves and tries to resist the urge to take a bag for himself.

He should be calling in his handler now, tell them he's found another one of the mentioned "Golden Circle" location points. They still hadn't found the actual source nor head of what was likely the biggest drug syndicate in the world and only somehow kept sweeping at their crumbs. He's been following up on this mission for months now and it was hard to know if it would ever end or if there was any point to keep doing it.

He slips a thin white packet into his jacket before turning on his specs.

"Agent Tequila, reporting."

 

**? Date Unknown**

Tequila meets Harry again and it's the most darling experience ruffling up the Brit's feathers. Persnickety was the word he'd use to call him. When Harry the 17-55 year old asks for markers then makes a sarcastic joke about death, he thinks there might be something real special about him and he was right.

He looks forward to his visits to Harry's cell. When he's down from missions, he made it a point to ask Champ to give him at least a week's time before assigning him a new one, just so he could be involved in their guest's recovery that so far, has been reacting positively to his company. The real reason is obvious to anyone who looks closer. He's absolutely smitten and he can't help drinking up Harry's smiles like a parched man in a desert.

It's not all fun of course. Harry has his down days where he doesn't respond to anything or anyone. He was at a loss on what to do at first, but he realized while Harry wasn't completely there, he was still Harry. His time as a rodeo clown wasn't all about running and tussling raging bulls. He knows how to handle a spooked horse and he's a good hand with a lot of other animals too. When you're a ranch-raised country bumpkin, animal care just comes a little more naturally. He doesn't want to compare Harry to an animal, he's better than that, but weren't humans the highest form of animal?

When they found out Harry's similar involvement in their kind of business, it doesn't change a thing about how he feels. In fact, it probably amplifies it. Harry was his kind of animal, except he'd fallen farther and harder than he ever could. He gets through to Harry where Ging can't. He coaxes Harry from the darkness of his mind that threatens to swallow him whole. Harry needs him, and when he thinks about it, he needs Harry just as much. What the drugs don't do for him is give him a genuine sense of fulfilment from helping in Harry's recovery.

It feels like absolution and Harry is his new religion.

 

**December 3, 2016**

Tequila is sitting with Champ in his personal office when Ging sends him an urgent notification through his specs. Champ notices his momentary distraction and asks him what it is. It takes a split second for Tequila to make a decision and he decides he trusts Champ enough to share it.

"Ginger Ale just sent me a notif, sir. It's urgent. Something to do with Harry." He reads the short note aloud. Champ raises a brow. "Care to share with the class, Ginger Ale?"

Tequila pings Ging to call him and Champ.

**[GA: "Sorry to interrupt your debriefing, sirs."]**

"No trouble, we were just about done. So what's this urgent concern?" Champ leans forward on his desk with folded hands.

**[GA: "I've received live footage of suspicious activity at Agent Tequila's residence just now. Two unknowns. One just entered the house at what looks like Harry's invitation. It's been half an hour since the timestamp and the unknowns haven't left."]**

Champ looks at Tequila. "Course of action, son?"

Tequila blinks at the show of faith but rationalizes that it's his private property and Champ respects that. He respects Champ back just a little bit more.

"I have hidden surveillance feeds in my house. I'll check right now whether the situation is threatening or not." Tequila navigates his spec's interface and enters the password to his private server. He opens the live feed from his living room and tilts his head sideways. Huh.

"He's just having tea with them."

 

**December 3, 2016**

They take note of the license plate and car model and send the footage to their Surveillance and Tracking Team. They'll be able to follow the car through traffic cams and send an appropriate mole to send info back on the rabbits.

Tequila is dismissed by Champ to go home to Harry. He's driving when he opens his spec feed again and it's only when the unknowns have left that he breathes a sigh of relief. Harry is still there, still alive. He's just watching TV now but he's sitting in that eerily still posture that he recognizes as Harry going down.

He drives faster.

 

**December 3, 2016**

_Mind is scramb **l** ing into th **e** loudes **t** white noise_  
_Vision narrowing, as if looking down a dark well_  
_Chest tightening, like breathing through a straw_  
_Heart beating beco **me** s the only sound and feeling_  
_B **o** dy is failing, like a p **u** ppe **t** on broken strings_

It doesn't seem as frightening reading it until you realize, it's happening to _you_. When you finally tell yourself, _"Alright, I get it! That's enough!"_ It will **ne** v _e_ r b **e** _e_ n ~~ _o_~~ ** ~~u~~ g _h_.** The feeling will grip you in its _maw_ until you become ~~**nothing**~~ but the word that you never thought would apply to you:

**Victim.**

  
In the moments after, where the world rights itself up once more and the feeling in your legs return, there is only - reprieve.

Because it _will_ return. It's only a matter of time until it knocks on your mind's door like a ~~n unwanted~~ visitor.

 

_"But you were expecting me, weren't you?"_

 

You were.

And you _welcome_ it in because you understand, there is no other f **e** eling l _ik_ e i **t** , you cannot turn it **_down_**. It will sit on _your_ sofa, drink _your_ tea, kiss _your_ lover, all as you **stand** in the corner and **watch** helplessly as it lives _your_ life and **leaves you bereft** of yours.

  
It is Fear. And you are its **hostage.**

 

 _ **“Darlin’, I’m home!”**_ A door shuts. Sound and vision return like a swimmer coming out of water. Harry **falls** back into reality.

“Welcome home, Tequila!” His body **moves** before he can think about it and he’s walking towards his only source of comfort in this **charade** of a half-life. It is only a few steps from the sofa to the entryway but it feels like he's run a hundred-meter sprint.

“‘s just us, Harry,” Tequila says with that soft sweet smile that is a privilege to be its intended. “Of course. Wesley,” he amends and falls into Wesley’s embrace. He has become a flag of unwavering support, and the best way he could describe the man is _gentle_.

He cannot help himself with what comes next. Like a magnet attracted to its opposite pole, he pulls himself closer to Wesley until they are one body. Lips meld together and drink from the other like an oasis spring. The moment ends as gently as it began. Wesley parts from him with three soft kisses as if a final reminder saying, ‘I love you.’

They stand there with Wesley against the door and Harry leaning on him and just smile at each other like lovesick fools. Because that’s what they are, aren’t they? ~~Sick~~ fools in love. In a world that has broken them into misshapen pieces, they will never fit with anyone else. _But they fit._

“How was your day?” Harry asks, not to break the moment, but prolong it. He looks into Wesley's eyes and sees himself mirroring careful adoration.

“Bett’r now,” Wesley smirks and Harry can’t stop the unmanly giggle that bubbles out of his chest. He realizes how silly they are, acting like bloody teenagers when they are anything but. It makes Harry fall in love with Wesley more.

For all that Harry’s fears stem in his lost identity, with Wesley, there is no fear. He knows who he is, and for Wesley, it is whoever makes him happy.

  
  
.  
.  
.  
L̸̴̞͈̱̪͕̲̮̥͇̜̺͎͕͔̯̤͑̐͊̈̇ͩ͊ͪ̐̆ͫ̈́ͬ̚͢e̶̡͚̤̙͉ͫ̓ͣ͋͝tͦ̒ͪ̆̐ͥ͛ͦ̒ͣ͏͔̰͖͖̺̼̥̠̥͍̠͍̙̥̯̫͖̘͍͟ ̴͇̤̟͚̯̫̱̬͚͖̥̃̎̂ͧ̒ͤ̍̄ͯ͛̀ͥ͋ͩ̚ͅm̴̡̓̈͑͆̐̆̐̎̃ͪ͌̚͏̛͕͚͈̤̖̝͚̲̖̻̥̮͔͉̫é͉͕̱̞̫̥̯͚̳̆ͪͯ̋͒ͮ́ͬ̍̚̕ͅ ̢̎̄̑ͤͪͧ͌̐ͬͥͨ̈ͭ͏̛̩̺̝̰̺͡ö̡̮̠̬̻̤͚̰̳̺̝̖͔̲̥̼̜̺̪̩́̍͆̀̽ͯ̋̆͛̈̎͋͊̇̚͞u̓̊͆̉ͮ̿͑ͪ͠҉̸̞͙̟̗̹̻̖͎̲̠̣̺͞tͮ̅̓̎̌͘͜҉̯̙̦͈͚̕!̶̖͙̟̣̩̯̳̰͍͎̩͇̀ͯͥ͑̈̓͋̿̕͞ͅͅ  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.

 

 

**December 4, 2016**

"I didn't realize it at the time, too much in shock, but that was Harry's bullshit face."

Eggsy turns to Merlin from his side of the bed and silently demands an explanation.

"I've known the toff for thirty years, lad. I know when he's acting glib. I don't fully buy the amnesia gig, but we can't rule it out jus' yet." Merlin has his tablet propped against his lap and it's open to a GPS view of the bugs. From another window, he's reviewing the footage he took from his glasses and it's playing a rewind of Harry's face while they were having tea.

"Why would he even pretend in the first place? It's us, you. He can trust _you_ , can't he?" Eggsy's face is an expression of sad and imploring, like when he asked his mum why his dad wasn't coming home for Christmas.

"I don't know why he'd fake it, but that's what we're gonna find out." Merlin stares at Harry's face. He swears he will find out and he doesn't care what the answer is because he's going to bring Harry home no matter what.

 

 ** **December 4, 2016****  

Eggsy and Merlin follow Harry's coat tracker and find themselves on Statesman ground. It's not ideal, considering the cold and snow but it's a little better during the day where distillery tours are still open. Harry should be having his supposed Doctor's Appointment, so what was he doing in a whiskey warehouse?

"Put yer watch to it, lad." Merlin has Eggsy pointing his Kingsman watch at the scanner so that he could synchronize it with his decryption software. The security system was more complicated than he thought, biometric types usually were, but they weren't anything that couldn't be hacked. Merlin made the software himself after all.

"Biometric security scanner just to protect a few ol' barrels o' whiskey? Pull the other one luv," Eggsy griped.

"Got it," Merlin finishes decrypting the lock and the door slides opens with suspiciously more advanced tech than a warehouse should warrant. None of them are fooled. This goes deeper and their paranoia increases.

Eggsy and Merlin make their way in and the door slides closed behind them. Nothing to worry about, for now. It's a touch warmer in there than outside thanks to room temperature control. All the lights are on too. They move on.

"Fuckin' 'ell," Eggsy can't help but comment at the seemingly endless amounts of shelved whiskey barrels. "It's a shame it's not scotch." Merlin is very particular about his scotch. When they get to the back end of the warehouse, Merlin's clipboard alerts them of a hidden underground passage beneath them. "Now, if my calculations are carrect.. this is the way in." Merlin takes an axe conveniently placed by the huge whiskey barrel and hacks it.

The barrel is duly injured and bleeds whiskey. _Fuckin' hell, Merlin._ Merlin and Eggsy panic for a moment before Merlin uses that brilliant brain of his to stopper the flow with his hand. Problem solved. _Bloody well done, Merlin._

Their little party is interrupted by a dramatically suspenseful country rock montage.

"You know, my momma. She always told me us Southerners get our good manners from the British. I was thinkin', ain't that a damn pity. Y'all keepin' none for yourself." A cowboy saunters their way in a way only a cowboy could saunter. He also has a shotgun.

"Y'all ain't never heard o' knockin' before you enter?" Stereotypical cowboy spit.

 

**December 4, 2016**

Tequila doesn't really care for whatever half baked excuses these gents come up with. He's just messin' with them.

"We're from the Kingsman Tailor Shop, maybe you've heard of us?" Said the one that looks suspiciously like his Harry.

"Oh the Kingsman? Huh." He already knew that.

"That's where you got them fine suits and fancy spectacles you got on?" He remembers that tailored suit. He'd put bullets in it.

"Y'all look damn sharp." Tequila lays it thick with amusement. "Le' me see if I got it, right here." He looks them in the eye. "You want me to believe that it's normal for a tailor to hack through an advanced biometric security system with nuthin' but a little bitty ol' watch, on top o' trickin' my partner into lettin' ya into my house for a cup o' tea so you could put trackers on us?"

The gents don't say anything. They know they've been dressed down.

"I can promise ya, that dog won't hunt." Tequila brandishes his gun and cocks it at them. "So why don't y'all get down on ya knees and tell me who ya really work for."

The gents don't say anything. The bald one takes his hand off the barrel like it's a threat.

Tequila spits a bullet to stopper it.

 

"That's 1963 Statesman reserve. You just made it personal."

 

**December 4, 2016**

Couple of amateurs is what they were. The gents charge at him with fists like goons from a low end budget movie. He slides between them and gets in the younger one's blindside to hit him in the spine with the titanium butt of his gun and the bald one with the comb. Also titanium. He locks baldie's arm behind his back and turns them 'round to charge head first at the barrel. Baldie's knocked out and it only took 3 seconds.

Junior tries to stick it to him with a gun but he's left himself wide open for Tequila to trap Junior's arm between his own and the gun barrel and then knock the gun out of his hand. Junior gets behind him but Tequila's gun is an extension of his body and he knocks it behind him dead on if the grunt of pain was any indication. He uses that moment to turn and hit Junior with the butt again with a force strong enough to trip him up to the whiskey barrel. He presses himself against Junior and uses the gun barrel to lock his watch hand in place.

It only takes three clicks to set it to STUN, just the same as Harry's, before he twists Junior around to aim at his own neck.

"Who the fuck are you?" Were his last words before dropping unconscious. Tequila looks at their prone forms before tipping his hat.

 

**December 4, 2016**

  
They're in the viewing room. Tequila gives a shot at interrogating the gents but they're mouths are shut tighter than a bull's ass at fly time. Behind the mirror is Harry himself ignorant of what's happening outside his little padded cell. 

"Y'all got 3 seconds to tell me the truth."

They don't realize in their panic that he hasn't turned the safety off.

"He can't hear you but I can so talk."

It's a testament to their shock, screaming at Harry to get down, that makes Tequila realize that they are who they say they are.

"That's two."

And that they genuinely care about Harry.

"Three." Tequila puts the gun down and the gents look at him in horrified confusion.

"I'm jus' kiddin' y'all." Tequila can't help the chortle that comes out of his mouth. "My apologies, boys. We know who Kingsman is. We were just checkin' if y'all who ya really said to be. This was a test. You passed. Hope there ain't no hard feelings. I was just doin' my job." They're still trying to process this. Baldie is just staring in befuddlement at Harry who is shaving his face by the sink. He forgot to do it this morning because of Tequila's routine distractions.

"Welcome to Statesman. Independent intelligence agency, just like y'all I reckon, but our founders went into the booze business, thank the sweet lord above. I'm agent Tequila." He gestures in good faith.

Junior glares and tells him stiffly, "This is the part where you untie us."

 

**December 4, 2016**

Ginger explains to them how they saved Harry with the use of their own nanotech medicine called Alpha-Gel. They use it in the dire case their agents get a headshot wound. Amnesia, in particular, being one of the more common side effects.

Much as Merlin and Eggsy want to, there's no point in introducing themselves to Harry as they are yet. Tequila takes them up to his boss, Champagne "Call me Champ", and they reconverge as cousin agencies. Arthur was sent a message to call the next day for a formal meeting to discuss future opportunities to work together. Turns out, Tequila, Champ, and Ginger had grown a soft spot for their wayward agent and kept him to recover as one of their adopted, so it made great headway into developing healthy diplomacy.

"You're timing's just impeccable. In an extension of goodwill, we'd like to invite you to our annual [prohibition dinner](https://www.chicagobourbon.org/event/prohibition-dinner-old-forester/) tonight. I'll be there and, Tequila, is Harry comin' along?"

"I forgot to mention it to him last night. I'm sure he'll be fine with the change of plans," Tequila affirmed with a head cock.

"Wait, wait, bruv. Are you _actually_ serious? About you and Harry?" Eggsy finally broke to address the elephant in the room.

"I reckon so. Why?" Tequila takes a step forward. It's a typical macho intimidation tactic but no one stops him. The answer will decide for everyone what happens next.

Eggsy wills himself to physically swallow his tongue and hide his turmoil. His face is carefully blank as he extends a hand out to Tequila. "I'd like to personally thank you for the care you've given to Harry during his time here. It means a lot to us that he's well."

Tequila looks at it and shakes it once. He looks back into Eggsy's eyes and it feels like the tension rose up 10 notches.

His lip quirked. "Was my pleasure."

Oh, he bet it was. _Gag._

 

**December 4, 2016**

They haven't quite figured out whether to tell Harry yet that he used to be a British Superspy or wait for him to come to himself. On top of that was another debate on whether it was worth jogging his memory when, seeing the results of Ginger Ale's tests, it would be a trial for Harry to even go back to his former competency, no thanks to his impaired vision among other disabilities.

At the moment, they accept the invitation to the dinner party. It will be a good idea to reintroduce themselves to Harry properly. For Eggsy, it's difficult considering the things they last said to each other, but he's willing to let it go if it means that Harry is still alive and well. It'll be like a new beginning. For Merlin, it's more of a duty to see how things turn out. He doesn't want to think further on the past and just concentrate on the future.

They go back to the hotel to change into their evening Kingsman suits, and regardless of good faith, arm themselves to the teeth. Thankfully, the discreet nature of their business leaves them looking harmless as kittens. Well, perhaps just Eggsy. Merlin has long been out of the running.

 

**December 4, 2016**

Harry had just finished his routine checkup with Ms Ginger when Tequila arrived to pick him up in his room—the cell he'd been occupying in the past year.

When Tequila told him there would be a change of plans from their evening shopping, Harry thought, 'Huh. Alright.' When Tequila told him that they would be attending a dinner party with his boss at the Prohibition Theater, Harry thought, 'Oh, bugger.'

"Darling, wouldn't attending a theatre entail a bit more formality, such as wearing a suit that, ah, as you know, I do not own." Tequila, the poor dear, stared at him like he just vomited rainbows.

"FUCK!" And Tequila ran all the way from where he came from. Ginger told him it would be better if started changing into his [normal clothes](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/511748917759836171/594770730412146718/colin-firth-dons-grey-knitted-sweater-while-filming-love-actually-for-comic-relief.jpg) and just wait for Tequila to pick him up again. Harry thought nothing more of it.

It was half an hour later and Harry was sitting on his bed halfway through his book when Tequila returned with news that the suit would be taken care of. Harry raised a brow and just said, "If you say so."

"I asked a couple of tailors from outta town and they said they can have a suit ready for ya in a jiff. They're also attending the dinner so we'll all just go together if that's alright with you? Wait, did you even _wanna_ go? We can just, _not_ go too." Tequila realizes how pushy he'd been acting and asks this because if Harry isn't ready for going out and meeting people in more intimate settings than the grocery store then Tequila would cancel the entire thing and they can do whatever else that Harry wanted for the evening.

"Thank you for your concern, darling. I appreciate it but it's alright. I think. It will be a new experience for sure, but you'll be there so I have nothing to worry about, do I?" His episodes have not been as bad since living with Tequila and Harry has had months to affirm his faith in the man to keep him steady.

"Darlin', yer killin' me." Tequila dives in for a kiss. Harry lets him have his way until he's laying back on the bed. His book all but forgotten as it falls to the ground.

Always, these speeches leave them both flatfooted. But it is the truth, and that's what makes them more cherishable.

 

**December 4, 2016**

Tequila takes him home to get ready for the evening. They shower and get 'gussied up' as Tequila would say. They take care of Tequila first since Harry's clothes have yet to arrive. Harry is in nothing but a waist towel, something that Tequila greatly appreciates and makes it a trial for Harry to dress his man when fingers keep tapping up and down his sides.

"Could you please keep your hands to yourself for now? This tie won't tie itself and lord knows how you lived this long without learning how." Harry is doing his best to tie a half Windsor knot and for a moment is confused as to how he even knew it. He remembers he was 17, but he still has about 30 years of life experience that's still in the dark.

"My momma always used ta do it for me. Not like this, though." Tequila continues to appreciate the view.

"I would thank you to not compare me to your mother. I don't believe even as I am now, that I ever took up the mantle of parenthood. Thank god for that." The tie is finished and Harry smoothes it down inside his waistcoat and closes Tequila's evening jacket. A dark charcoal single-breasted suit, a beige waistcoat, and a diagonally striped tie that complimented the ensemble. The overall outfit was, in fact, his Statesman Executive Uniform.

"You're very handsome, my dear. I find it tragic that you'd prefer to wear your denims when you can afford to wear things like this to work." The offhand comment was ironic considering that it was Harry who used to wear things like this to work.

"I'm not the only one wishin' things were different. It's a damn pity that you can't be wearin' this every day instead." He pinches the towel that threatens to slide off. Harry slaps his hand away and playfully points a finger at him. "Behave." Tequila holds his hands up in surrender but the smirk on his face says it isn't over yet. The momentary battle for Harry's nudity is set to a truce when the doorbell rings conveniently (or inconveniently, in Tequila's case.)

Harry gestured for him to get the door and turns his back to find a t-shirt and trousers. Tequila goes but not before slapping the butt as toll. Harry jumps and violently waves his arm to swat the hand away, Tequila just laughs as he backs out the door.

 

 

"Hamish! What a surprise!"

"Hello again, Harry. I'm as surprised as ye."

Harry came down to the living room to find the deliveryman from yesterday turned out to be one of the mentioned tailors as well.

"They're our guests from Kingsman, our founding fathers were essentially cousins, you could say." Tequila gestured to them who were all standing.

"I'm Hamish, also called Merlin. I run the head of our IT department. This is, Gary Unwin, one of our top sales agents."

Gary steps up to offer his hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry. Call me Eggsy." The young man's face is set to a severe expression of blank politeness, but his eyes are laser-focused on grabbing his attention. Harry is mildly unsettled by the look but shakes the hand politely. He turns back to Hamish.

"Small world, wouldn't you say?" That Harry was found by Statesman who turned out to be partners with Kingsman who he happened to have ties to. It was all rather convenient and in this world, such a coincidence always belied more than it showed. The seed of doubt is planted in his brain but he tries to ignore it.

 

 **Ḛ̵̰̒̓̍̽͒ͨ͝** ~~g̀ͩ̀͘͞͏̝̣͕̲~~ **g͉͎̍̿ͨ͛͢s̡̨͍͇̝̞͖̿͂̽** y̧̛̤ͯ̎̿́̅̄̈́

 

"Tequila mentioned ye having need of a suit, and lucky for ye we did bring one. When we found out ye were alive, it was a relief to everyone. Eggsy," Merlin said and Eggsy followed his cue. Eggsy presented an expensive leather bag.

"This is for you, Harry. Kingsman's essentials. And your suit, bespoke with your old measurements. Hopefully it still fits like a glove. You don't look like you've changed much." Eggsy took the bagged suit laid on the sofa's arm and gave it to Harry as well.

That last remark was what got Harry's attention. "Oh, I do apologize. Have I met you before as well?"

Eggsy looks at Merlin but Merlin says nothing so he goes ahead. "You knew me dad before he died. You were also the one who got me my job at Kingsman. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for ya." That was not what Harry expected. His ties to Kingsman seemed more rooted than he thought. It's too much to think about right now and he changes the topic.

 

 

 **E̵̴̵̳̦̩̭̰̜̥̱̝̣̝̰̙͙̟͙ͩ́̎̃ͥ̾̿̃̾̚g̨̰̟̬̖̼̟͎͉̣̖̺̟ͧ̆ͨ̎͆̈̋̈́͞͝** ~~g̷͔̹̝̪̻̣̺̯͓͕ͩ̽͗ͮ̾̿̅̔̀̽̍͆ͦ͋̇ͩ̎͘~~ **~~ṣ̸̴̭̺̖̦̹̳̭̞̠̰͎̜̬̪̮̜͓̊ͦ̌̍͋̀̚͞~~ y̷̷̗͚̬̻̙͔̠̤̻̼̗̿̏͗̾͌̀͐̏́ͨͦͮ͛̓͂̈͒ͧ͜͡ͅ**

 

 

"I'm so sorry, Eggsy. It's probably too late but you have my sincere condolences. But I'm also glad that you seem to be doing well. Top sales agent!"

Tequila cuts in. "Sorry to interrupt y'all but we only have an hour before the reservation. I'm sure you guys can catch up at the party once Harry's done dressing." Tequila was more in tune to Harry's moods now and realized the bombs Galahad kept dropping were walking Harry into another down.

"Oh yes, dear. You're absolutely right. I might take a while in getting ready,"

"You always do."

"So let me just pop upstairs for a bit and then we can go." Harry adjusts his hold on the Kingsman bag and suit's hanger. "I'm sorry I couldn't be a better host this evening but I'm sure Tequila will be able to keep you entertained. Please excuse me." Exit, Harry.

 

 

"Look I'm sorry y'all but ya can't stress him out too much right now or else he's gonna crash."

"Slowly, Eggsy. He's right. Not tonight. There's a good lad."

"Sorry. Could I use the loo?"

"Down the hall, door on the right."

"Thanks. Excuse me."

 

 

They take an Uber to the Prohibition Theater. The ride was a little tense at first with Harry sitting between Eggsy and Tequila. Merlin sat shotgun with the driver and for lack of better things to do during transit in a civilian car, griped about Uber's [security breaches](https://techcrunch.com/2017/11/21/uber-data-breach-from-2016-affected-57-million-riders-and-drivers/) and company integrity. This got the driver curious about the three Brits but Eggsy just said "Tourists" and that got the driver recommending them all sorts of places to visit during their stay. When Eggsy and Merlin asked what language the driver was speaking, Tequila had to translate for them. "It's English but it's American English, on top of being Southern English." It was an Experience, to say the least.

They made it in time to the box office and were guided to some tables where Champ was already waiting together with a few other similarly dressed gents. After a warm welcome, Merlin and Eggsy were seated with Champ and another Statesman agent named Whiskey. He flew all the way from New York just to attend the dinner and also meet their esteemed guests.

Harry and Tequila were seated a table away but had it all to themselves, to Harry's delight. Champ winked at Tequila when Harry wasn't looking and Tequila smiled and nodded his thanks. To Tequila, it looked like a generous arrangement for a date night but it doubly served the purpose of isolating Harry's interactions and minimizing the possibility of an episode. It might have seemed like coddling, but Harry's happiness was at the forefront of every decision Tequila made nowadays.

With the lowlights and [burlesque](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dc2d_lvA2Vc) entertainment going on, Champ and Whiskey regaled their guests about the food and beverage servings. Since this was a Statesman hosted event, their whiskey and bourbons were the highlights of the menu. Tequila similarly did the same but with a lot more playful touches and embarrassed looks from Harry.

 

"Oh my," Harry said as he took a sip of the [1897 Statesman Reserve](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iTw_i1oT-lo), his attention was on the scantily clad and enthusiastically shimmy production. He put his glass down to dab at his lips then he looked at Tequila like a teenager being caught with a hand down his pants, but like a true Englishman, pretended it did not phase him. The apples of his cheeks were flushed pink. Tequila smirked, "Enjoy the show?"

"Enjoy might not be the word I'd use. I'm _terribly_ overwhelmed and I do believe that warrants a trip to the men's room. Won't you be a dear and accompany me?" Harry said with an innocent smile.

"Why do you need me to— _Oh_." Did the room just get hotter? Tequila adjusted his collar.

Harry shot him a coy look. He was acting bolder this evening, probably due to the alcohol and explicitly teasing entertainment. Not to mention all the flirting they'd been doing since this morning. This could finally be the climax to their heavy petting. He got up from his seat and Tequila followed closely behind.

Eggsy, who had been keeping an eye on them all evening, excused himself as well.

 

 

"Oh, _fuck me_ ," Eggsy said when he realized that Harry and Tequila left just so they could have a quick shag in the toilet. He was standing outside the men's room and the muffled grunts and bangs weren't fooling no one. He wasn't needed here, but he also didn't want to go back to the restaurant. He was sure Merlin could hold the fort, he just needed some fresh air. Maybe have a quick call with Tilde if she was awake at, he checked his phone, 2 AM Stockholm time. Maybe not then.

He walks around the fancy corridors until he finds what is the back alley entrance. He's finally out and it's not the greatest view. Just bricks and a dumpster with an alley leading to the main street. It's so cold his breath smoked and there was a light snowfall but it wasn't making inches on the ground so that was good.

"Out for a smoke too?" A male's voice said. "Yeah, was getting a little too hot in there, with the dancers and," Eggsy turned to the voice and was shocked out of his system. So was Charlie.

"Fuck." They both looked surprised but it lasted only for a second before they attacked.

 

 

 **[G: "There's a bit of a situation."]** Eggsy's voice came through to Merlin's comms. It was a little ragged and stilted. Grunts of pain and exertion bled through his speech.

"Where are ye right noo?" Merlin's calm urgency caught the attention of the two Statesman.

 **[G: "Backalley. Charlie Hesketh."]** That was all he said before his comms cut off.

"What's the matter, son?" Champ asked.

Merlin was already standing. "Galahad is in trouble. He's fighting a rogue Kingsman trainee. I need to help him." 

"Take Whiskey wit' ya. I'll call HQ to secure the premise." Whiskey nodded to Champ and put his hat on.

 

TBC.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy cries again in this chapter. I think he's going to cry a lot later too.  
> Champ is Tequila's dadther and wingman. He also supports Tequila's improved work ethic.
> 
> On another note, please look at this image of **Young Colin Firth in a Pink Sweater** \- [here](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/511748917759836171/594771345599102977/Dk5NCd4XoAEVSWV.jpg)
> 
> It would please me to know what you think about this, thank you.


End file.
